Whitey and I switched places last night, and I ran the line while he did deliveries and worked the “dish hole”. It seemed like I made pizzas and strombolis constantly for 9-hours straight. We had a really busy, late lunch which transitioned into a really busy, early dinner crowd which then remained steady until we closed at 10 p.m. I made over 35 orders by myself, and all of the meat pizzas had no sausage touching each other, or pepperoni overlapping. OCD, ya know…
We had a customer announce that it was their first time in, and at the end of his meal, he popped his head into the kitchen to inform us that he was blown away by how good our food was. I beamed.
I was working with a fairly new employee, directing him on ovens and coaching him on getting the plates set up. He did a great job. At one point, he pulled a pie and began to slice it when I noticed that it was a bit too undercooked… by about 30-seconds in my opinion. I told him so, and you could see the incredulous “are you sure?” look on his face. Yes, that pie needs another 30 to 45-seconds to crisp the edges. He put it back in the oven, took it out moments later, and agreed that yes, it did need that extra time. Later in the evening, I watched as he pulled a different pie out, looked at it thoughtfully, and put it in a lower oven to crisp the bottom thoroughly. Learning the ovens is an art, for sure.
All in all, Whitey and I worked a combined 27 hours yesterday. Our payroll was only 17.5 hours. And our sales? Way above average. It feels good to work so hard for ourselves – to have everything run so smoothly – to have top-notch food and grateful customers – to finally close the night in the black.